That Man (Continued)

From that day on, every member of the 11th Division realized that the new Kenpachi's methods might not match his gentle appearance.

Under Xuanxin's swift and decisive purge, the division's corrupt practices were uprooted.

The thuggish squad members were either expelled from the Gotei 13 or thrown straight into the Second Division's prison.

The division, once a den of corruption, soon regained the purity expected of a combat-focused squad. Every morning, the training ground once again rang with battle cries in unison and the thunderous clash of wooden swords.

Surprisingly, as the division's atmosphere changed, several female squad members who had applied for transfers under Kiganjō because they could no longer bear the humiliation tentatively submitted requests to return.

Xuanxin not only readily approved his former comrades' return, but also took care to emphasize the principle of strength above all else at a squad meeting.

His impartial conduct won over the entire group of unruly battle maniacs in a short time.

Under Xuanxin's leadership, the 11th Division had finally returned to the right track.

Yet unlike the thriving 11th Division, the Second Division barracks were steeped in resentment and despair.

After Xuanxin officially transferred out of the Second Division and became captain of the 11th, the Second Division's lieutenant position naturally fell vacant.

Before leaving, Xuanxin had promised Yoruichi that he would "keep helping her with the division's work."

At first, Xuanxin did indeed finish all the Second Division's remaining paperwork every night.

But gradually, as Yoruichi watched Xuanxin's tired face, she thought, No! My Xuanxin is already tired enough being a captain all day. How can he waste his precious time on this sort of thing at night?

Yoruichi soon made a decision in her heart.

Since Xuanxin couldn't be allowed to tire himself out and she herself loathed the tedious paperwork, the only solution was to find a new "tool."

So, after a brief period of "careful consideration," Yoruichi naturally promoted Marechiyo Ōmaeda, who had been Third Seat, to lieutenant of the Second Division.

On the day his appointment came through, Marechiyo Ōmaeda was moved to tears.

Clutching the little wooden badge that symbolized a lieutenant's authority, he wept bitterly and even began imagining the wonderful future in which he would be admired by all.

But before the newly appointed lieutenant could enjoy his promotion for long, reality came crashing down on him like a heavy mountain, ruthlessly crushing him.

For the first few days, Ōmaeda looked at the mountains of paperwork on his desk and naively assumed it was merely a temporary backlog caused by the handover between lieutenants.

He threw himself into the work with two hundred percent enthusiasm, writing at his desk day and night in an attempt to prove his abilities to Yoruichi.

But as time passed, Ōmaeda discovered to his horror that the mountain of paperwork showed no sign of shrinking. Instead, it was growing ever larger!

Worse still, Yoruichi, operating on the principle that the capable should do more work, had made a habit of "vanishing"!

"Lieutenant Ōmaeda! This top-secret Stealth Force deployment order needs the captain's personal signature!"

"Lieutenant Ōmaeda! The captain still needs to review the security report from western Rukongai!"

Faced with the squad members' urgent demands, Marechiyo Ōmaeda, enormous dark circles under his eyes, could only stare at the empty captain's chair, too miserable even to cry, and wail in despair:

"Where am I supposed to find the captain for you? She hasn't been to the division in days!"

Thus, an absurd unwritten rule gradually took shape in the Second Division:

If you had urgent division business that required the captain, you were better off not wasting time in the Second Division. Instead, head out, turn right, and look for her at the 11th Division's training ground or captain's office.

Nine times out of ten, you would find Lady Yoruichi beside the new Kenpachi, sleeping soundly or eating snacks.

Yoruichi Shihōin, the culprit behind all this, felt not the slightest guilt.

She continued sticking to Xuanxin's side every day without tiring of it. Even when he was instructing squad members in swordsmanship, she could throw all dignity aside, turn into a black cat, and curl up comfortably for a nap in the sunlight beside the training ground.

Captain-Commander Yamamoto, supreme commander of the Gotei 13, was naturally well aware of Yoruichi's outrageous behavior: seriously neglecting her duties and even treating her division like a game.

At every regular captains' meeting, Captain-Commander Yamamoto sternly criticized Yoruichi. His deafening roars could be heard clearly even by the lieutenants standing outside the door.

Yet perhaps because of Xuanxin, the Captain-Commander's punishment of Yoruichi never went beyond "verbal instruction." There was no actual penalty at all.

Yoruichi maintained her attitude of "humbly accepting instruction and never changing." Once the lecture was over, she would turn around and run off to the 11th Division with a grin to mooch a meal.

But as the saying went, what went around came around. All the punishment Yoruichi escaped from the Captain-Commander ultimately fell on Xuanxin twice over, in another, far crueler form.

Deep within the First Division, in a private inner courtyard.

"Bang—!" A muffled collision of flesh thundered through the courtyard.

Xuanxin flew backward like a cannonball, slammed heavily into the hard bluestone floor, and slid more than ten meters before finally managing to steady himself.

Clutching his aching chest, he gasped for breath as sweat dripped from his silver-white hair.

Directly in front of him, Shigekuni Yamamoto-Genryūsai had removed his Captain's Haori from his upper body, exposing his knotted muscles. Like an immovable, wrathful guardian deity, he held a firm horse stance.

"Too slow! That turn of your wrist was a completely unnecessary movement! Is that how I taught you?"

Old Man Yamamoto's voice boomed like a great bell, his tone carrying undisguised severity and anger.

Clearly, the old man had turned all the frustration Yoruichi had caused him into strict demands during training, pouring it all out on his cherished disciple.

In the way of the sword, Xuanxin had long since found a broad path of his own, thanks to Miyamoto Musashi's guidance and his own talent.

In the year and more he had spent learning from Captain-Commander Yamamoto, Xuanxin's sponge-like aptitude had allowed him to grasp most of the essence of the old man's sweeping, supremely forceful and yang-aligned swordsmanship.

Although his Zanpakuto, Mumyō and Shingon, were not purely fire-type Zanpakuto like Ryūjin Jakka, the wavelength of Xuanxin's Reiatsu had an innately high affinity for fire.

As a result, Xuanxin could display seventy to eighty percent of the majesty and spirit of Captain-Commander Yamamoto's sword techniques, sparing the old man much trouble and making him especially proud when teaching him swordsmanship.

But what still gave the strongest Soul Reaper, who had lived for a thousand years, a real headache was Xuanxin's "black hole"-level Hakuda.

After fully accepting the fragments of memory belonging to the modern youth deep within his soul and perfectly integrating them with his own, Xuanxin's soul had finally become whole.

That wholeness meant his Hakuda was finally no longer as "abstract" as it had been at first, when he had made the ridiculous motion of performing a sword-drawing slash with his fist.

However, not being abstract did not mean it was normal.

Although Xuanxin's Hakuda now looked the part, his bizarre way of exerting force remained entirely outside the bounds of what was normal for a Soul Reaper!

To keep his disciple, who bore the twin titles of "the Captain-Commander's personally taught disciple" and "the eleventh Kenpachi," from disgracing him in unarmed combat in the future, Old Man Yamamoto had taken extraordinary pains.

The old man, rigid as he was, had spent countless nights working by lamplight, repeatedly studying and working through various ancient Hakuda texts until he had painstakingly tailored an entirely new school of Hakuda for his cherished disciple, one "based on the principles of exerting force in swordsmanship"!

"Get up! Don't think with your fists! Imagine your arm is the sword in your hand, and treat your spine as your scabbard! Throwing a punch is drawing your sword, and pulling it back is sheathing it!"

Standing on the steps, Captain-Commander Yamamoto then shouted these essential instructions to Xuanxin, who had just climbed to his feet.

Soon, something miraculous happened.

The moment words like "swordsmanship" and "blade" were combined with the movements of Hakuda, it was as though some hidden switch inside Xuanxin had been triggered.

This time, he did not deliberately try to correct the awkward feeling in his muscles. Instead, he gave himself over completely to the absurd instinct to treat his limbs as weapons.

"Whoosh—!"

Xuanxin pushed off and shot toward Captain-Commander Yamamoto like an arrow from a bow. His right arm, like a heavy sword tearing through the air, slashed fiercely down at the old man's ribs with a sharp whistle!

Faced with the fierce attack, Old Man Yamamoto was not angry. Instead, a flash of uncontainable delight appeared in his eyes.

"Well done!"

The old man likewise turned his palm into a blade and precisely blocked Xuanxin's arm. The two launched into a dazzling close-quarters fight in the courtyard.

This time, the awkward, ridiculous quality was finally gone. Xuanxin truly executed the bizarre, tailor-made Hakuda in one smooth, flowing sequence!

Watching Xuanxin's movements grow smoother and the circulation of his Reiatsu become clearer as he fought, Captain-Commander Yamamoto let out a long breath in his heart and sighed from the bottom of it:

"Phew... I've finally managed to save face!"

And in the flower bed nearby, the stump of an ornamental pine that Xuanxin had accidentally burned to charcoal long ago had miraculously put out a tiny, tender green shoot.

Gradually, besides handling his busy division duties and training, Xuanxin's life also came to include a peaceful job.

From time to time, at the invitation of the current principal of Shin'ō Academy, he would visit the academy and substitute for a few advanced swordsmanship theory classes for students who had yet to graduate.

At first, the academy's students were somewhat worried. After all, this was the cold-blooded god of slaughter rumored to have split the previous Kenpachi in two with a single stroke.

If he taught their class and failed to keep his killing intent in check, what if he cut them down on the spot?

However, it turned out that all their worries were unnecessary.

After taking off the haori that marked him as a captain and changing into a plain robe, Xuanxin showed a side of himself completely different from the rumors.

His long silver-white hair danced lightly in the wind, and a gentle, patient smile always graced his handsome, jade-like face.

When he explained the way of the sword in class, he made profound concepts easy to understand. He never used obscure language, instead breaking down the mysteries of swordsmanship for his students bit by bit through the most direct movements and the simplest words.

His approachable personality, combined with his stunning, top-tier looks, quickly won over the vast majority of Shin'ō Academy's students.

It was an evening as the sky was growing dark. Xuanxin had just finished an open lecture on "resonance between Reiatsu and the blade."

He patiently answered the last few students' questions and watched them bow and take their leave in twos and threes. The spacious dojo gradually fell quiet, with only traces of youthful energy and the smell of sweat lingering in the air.

Just as Xuanxin placed the last file into a wooden box and prepared to turn and leave the dojo—

"Teacher Shihoin, please wait a moment."

A clear, humble voice, steeped in a scholarly air, suddenly rang out in the empty dojo.

Xuanxin stopped and looked up in the direction of the voice.

A youth dressed in the plain white uniform of an ordinary Shin'ō Academy student stood quietly beside the dojo's sliding door.

The youth had meticulously groomed short black hair and a pair of thick black-framed glasses resting on his nose.

A gentle, impeccably polite smile rested on his delicate features. He looked like an ordinary, hardworking honor student.

Yet the moment Xuanxin's gaze met the youth's eyes behind his lenses, nerves honed through countless brushes with death twitched without warning.

It was a shiver based purely on instinct.

"Do you have a question?" Xuanxin composed himself and asked calmly, a gentle smile still on his face.

The youth walked forward at an unhurried pace and stopped five steps from the lectern. He properly performed a formal disciple's salute, then raised his head and spoke in a tone full of eagerness to learn:

"Teacher, I have a question about the basic sword form you demonstrated just now. When defending, would deliberately exposing an opening to guide the opponent's attack and create a gap be more effective than simply blocking?"

At the question, Xuanxin's deep black eyes narrowed slightly.

Though it sounded like a simple question of swordsmanship tactics, hidden behind it was an absolute rationality and ruthlessness that could manipulate the entire course of a battle at will.

Xuanxin gave him a long look and patiently explained the risks of that tactic in actual combat and the ways it could be adapted.

The youth listened intently. With only a little guidance from Xuanxin, he could apply what he learned to other situations and instantly grasp the essence of the swordsmanship.

The astonishing aptitude drew Xuanxin's admiration, even as the warning bells of danger in his heart grew ever shriller.

By the time he had finished answering, the last rays of the setting sun were about to sink below the horizon.

The youth pushed up the black-framed glasses, which reflected a faint glimmer of light, and bowed deeply with utmost respect. "Thank you for clearing up my confusion, Teacher Shihoin. I have benefited greatly. It is as though the clouds have parted to reveal the sun."

Xuanxin watched him, then, just before the youth turned to leave the dojo, casually asked, as if in passing:

"What's your name?"

The youth's steps paused slightly. He turned around, his back to the doorway that was gradually being swallowed by darkness, his trademark smile still on his face, gentle to the point of near perfection.

"In answer to your question, teacher."

The youth answered softly, his voice echoing clearly through the empty dojo.